Missed In Action
by The Threat
Summary: What if Alex Murphy was one of the 4400?
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: based on characters created by Edward Neumeier and Michael Miner, and on situations created by René Echevarria and Scott Peters

* * *

The cop was lying down on the floor, while there was one man standing on his right arm, aiming his gun at him, saying: "See I got this problem. Cops don't like me. So I don't like cops."

He took aim with his gun, upon which he started mimicking the sound of a machine, while simultaneously tilting his gun up and down, deciding whether to shoot the cop in the head or in the belly. But once he aimed at his head, the gun panned to the gunman's left, firing a shot in the cop's right hand. His hand shattered and blood spurted about. The cop felt pain, but for a brief moment, as the very hand where was supposed to feel pain had disappeared, so there was nothing to send a signal to his brain that he could interpret as pain anymore.

The gunman turned to his henchmen, all of whom were laughing at this.

"Well, give the man a hand." the gunman said, to which the henchmen roared in laughter, "He's all yours."

The cop tried to get up, hoping he could still get out of this alive. He took a few steps toward the exit, until: "All right, look out."

"Turn around, man." came another.

"Hey, brave boy! Hey, over here!"

What else could they possibly want, the cop wondered, so he turned around to look at them. A big mistake that turned out to be, as one of the henchmen fired another shot. This time, he shot his arm off. The cop had already begun to cry out loud when all the others joined in and fired as many shots as their guns would allow them. Their bullets must be of an armor-piercing type, because his bullet-proof vest didn't help him any. While the men kept roaring in laughter, somehow finding a lot of fun in shooting him, the cop could think of only one thing. His family. His wife and son. The people he hoped to protect. The very people he'd be leaving behind thanks to these monsters. That man he met back at the station earlier that day (when he made his transfer to this precinct official) wasn't kidding when he welcomed him to hell. In hind-sight, the cop realized, maybe he should not have called that gunman "slime".

Completely unexpected, the firing stopped.

"I'm outta ammo." one of them said.

"Me too."

The cop didn't care, as all the pain he was feeling distracted him from any other thought.

"Hey Clarence. He's still alive!"

Clarence, the cop thought. Instinctively, he memorized that name, somehow thinking, hoping, in the back of his mind, that he will make it through this alive. But as soon as he heard someone talking, but he couldn't make out the words he was saying, he realized it was pointless. He was dying, and there was nothing he could do about it. He opened his eyes, and saw the gunman, Clarence, pointing his nine-millimeter gun at him. He was ready to pull the trigger, but by then the cop had already started to see the light. The whole room started to turn a bright white, which the cop thought is the light people see when they die. But that was when something strange happened. Clarence lowered his gun and looked up. The cop couldn't hear his words, but his mouth definitely read: "What the fuck?"

Did Clarence see that light too? Is he dying of a heart attack and following the cop? If so, then so would the henchmen, as they too seemed to be seeing that light.


	2. Chapter 2

Words could not describe what happened before the cop's eyes. One moment he was being shot by a gang of criminals, the next he was some place else. It was like changing channels on a television, except in this case someone changed the location. He couldn't understand it. But the situation didn't get any weirder until he took a closer look at the location in question. It was a dark, foggy lake. It was as if someone transported him onto the film-set of a bad B-movie. But he wasn't alone. He was surrounded by dozens, if not hundreds of people. All of them appeared just as confused as he was. The detective in him tried to see if there was some connection between him and everyone else. But there wasn't any immediately visible. There were people of both genders, of all races, of many ages... there was nothing that would immediately link them. One thing that did occur to him was that many of these people seemed to think they were from a different period. He saw a girl of about eight years old, who seemed like she was dressed for the 1930s, there was a tall man in a soldier's uniform, but the uniform in question looked like something his father once wore, not something soldiers wore today. The thought occurred to him that they were at a costumed party, and that this was what linked them, but how would that explain his own presence? He scratched his head trying to figure this out. Doing so, he came to another realization. He was using his right hand to scratch himself. That same hand that had been shot off. The mystery was getting bigger and bigger. But as soon as the smoke cleared, he knew it would only grow worse. There were more people at the lake. Several with cameras and microphones, and others that looked like law-enforcement. Looked like it, because they were carrying weapons and using equipment he had never seen before. He didn't know what was going on, but at least he saw an opportunity. He ran to these people, and spoke to the first person he saw.

"Excuse me." he said.

That first person, a woman who looked like a no-nonsense type of person, immediately drew her gun.

"Don't move!" she shouted.

"It's okay!" he raised his arms trying to calm her down, "I'm Officer Alex Murphy. Detroit PD."

The woman raised her chin: "You're a cop?!"

The cop, Murphy, didn't like the dry tone of her voice. Why did she doubt him? He was still wearing his uniform, so couldn't she tell?

"Yes. Look, I d..."

"What is going on here?" she asked.

"I don't know." Murphy replied, "And I'm sure nobody else here knows either."

"Are you sure?" the woman asked, "Or are you just making excuses?"

This woman didn't seem to listen to reason at all.

"Excuse me." a man came up to the woman, "I just checked up on the name Alex Murphy."

Good, Murphy thought, now this woman would start taking him seriously. But then Murphy noticed what he was showing the woman exactly. It looked like a television, but the screen was too flat, and it had a sort of type-writer attached to it. If he didn't know any better, he thought it was a computer, but when did they get so small? The woman was looking at something on the screen, then back at Murphy. She put her gun away, then walked away with this man. Murphy couldn't hear it, but he saw the woman barking orders at the other law-enforcers. He hoped the confusion will end soon enough.


	3. Chapter 3

Vans arrived, all of which marked with the letters C.D.C. Murphy didn't understand why the C.D.C. would have to get involved. Then again, he appeared out of nowhere, and he would assume so did the others around him. This woman he spoke to earlier must have been a witness to all this, so she and her co-workers must have been just as confused about the situation as he is. So he considered going with the C.D.C. willingly would be the right step to take if he wanted some answers. He did fear that all the others wouldn't be so understanding. And he was right. As soon as the men in hazmat-suits walked out, everyone started to panic.

"All right, everyone calm down." one man with a megaphone addressed everyone.

But nobody calmed down. Instead, many started shouting at them. Trying to keep some kind of peace, Murphy walked up to the man with the megaphone.

"Let me handle this." he told him.

"Where did you come from? A Halloween party?" one of the hazmat-people asked.

Murphy was surprised: "This uniform is standard issue."

"Ten years ago, maybe." was the reply, "But not today, it isn't."

Ten years ago? What were they talking about? Murphy shrugged it off: "Just let me help you with these people."

The megaphone man was reluctant, but gave it to Murphy anyway, allowing him to tell everyone: "Everybody, can I have your attention?"

Instantly people calmed down, so Murphy could talk: "I know you all want to go home. To your family and loved ones. And I'm sure we will. And the better we cooperate with these people, the sooner we do.

Even if the hazmat-people didn't take Murphy's uniform seriously, the others did. So they listened to what Murphy told them, and decided to cooperate.

"Thanks, man." the megaphone man said.

The hazmat people told everyone to get inside their vans, and once they were in they were taken some place else. What it was, they didn't know. On the outside, it looked like a bunker. Soon enough some people were about to burst into anger, but others reminded them of what Murphy told them. Once everyone was inside, they were asked to take off their clothes, and told to put on these brown clothes. Any one person who was done getting dressed, was then asked to enter a room. Eventually, it was Murphy's turn.

When Murphy entered the room, all he saw was one chair, and one small machine on a tripod. The machine looked like a camera, but they are usually bigger than that. It must have a different function, it just happened to look like a camera, he told himself. Behind the camera, was a window, behind whom he saw a man sitting down, with a few pieces of paper on his desk. A simple interrogation, he figured. Though Murphy had done plenty of those in the past, he never expected to find himself on this side of the table. Without further ado, he sat down.

"Can you tell me your name?" the interrogator asked.

"Alex Murphy."

He took a note: "Profession?"

"I'm a police officer." Murphy was annoyed to say it, but for the time being he was willing to let it go, "I work for the Detroit Police Department."

Then the man did something weird. He read his next question from his notes, but then shook his head and asked: "What year do you think it is?"

Murphy hesitated, as he neither understood the man's behavior or the question: "1988. Why?"

The man then turned to a guard who stood behind him. They were whispering something, Murphy couldn't hear what.

"What aren't you telling me?"

"What is the last thing you remember?" the man asked.

Murphy was starting to lose his own patience, but he answered the question anyway: "I was chasing a gang of bank-robbers. They cornered me, and..."

Remembering it, Murphy became quiet. He started scratching his arm when the man asked: "And then what?"

"I must have passed out." Murphy replied, thinking this was the only logical explanation.

"Must have? You mean you're not sure?"

"I remember the gang shooting me." Murphy continued, "They even shot my arm off."

The man looked up, puzzled: "You seem all right to me."

"I know." Murphy said, "As I said, I must've passed out. Next thing I know, I wake up at that lake."

"And besides the part about waking up, all of this happened in '88?"

Murphy got close to losing it that time: "What do you mean? What is this all about?"

"Officer Murphy." the man said, "The year is 2004."

This didn't calm Murphy down, so much as numb him. Was this a game they were playing? If so, it would have been a very elaborate one. He's seen these people drive cars of models he had never seen before, they've used machines that were new to him,... they'd have to go through a lot of trouble just to fool him and hundreds of other people into believing they woke up in the future. Then again, he did notice some people didn't look like they were from his own time. And somebody did say that his uniform was something people wore ten years ago and not anymore. So if it were true and he had been gone for sixteen years, where has he been? And why doesn't he look any older? Sure, he hasn't had a chance to see himself in the mirror, but his own body still looked the same as it did yesterday. If any time had passed, he should have noticed a difference. But there was nothing. The man asked another question, but Murphy had already stopped listening.


	4. Chapter 4

Six weeks. Six weeks of tests, interrogations, and having nothing else to do but watch the TV-screen, where reporters were talking incessantly about him and all others. But Murphy didn't care about any of that. He had been gone for sixteen years. His son would be in his late twenties, his wife probably remarried,... he'd not only enter a world he doesn't know, but his own family would seem alien even to him. It gave him mixed feelings about wanting to leave. Of course he was anxious to see his family again, but at the same time he wasn't sure if he wanted to. It was this uncertainty that almost drove him to madness. And it didn't help when the TV-reporters kept talking about the "Forty-Four Hundred". Such a large group of people, who each disappeared over the course of the past century, and none were any older than when they left... of course it caused a lot of panic among the general public. So hearing many of these people call him and the 4399 others "freaks" (when they're nice), it made it even harder for him keep his sanity. But he knew that if he went crazy, it would only make things worse for him. He'd be locked up, kept away from everybody. And if he were to see his wife or son again, it would be from behind the bars. That was something he couldn't do to them. So he stood his ground. He would be patient, he would keep his cool... and soon enough a lawyer came through, demanding the release of the 4400.

Everyone was given something which Murphy liked to call a starters' kit. They all received forms which could help them find jobs, a small amount of money just to get started, and some clean clothes. In addition to all that, they were all assigned a number. Murphy thought that was ridiculous, but he realized soon enough what the significance of those numbers were. While his own wife and son might still recognize him, he might not immediately recognize his much older wife, nor his now adult son. While he understood the necessity, he didn't like the idea of having to be recognized as a number, or recognizing his family by a number. He decided to go with it anyway, and got in line to receive his kit.

Murphy was counting down the people before him. All of the ones who left the line carried a stack of papers, an envelope, and a blue card with a number printed on it. After a long wait, it was finally Murphy's turn. The man at the desk gave him a stack of papers, an envelope with money, and... that was it. He didn't receive a number. This didn't make sense to him.

"Excuse me." he said, "Shouldn't there be a number for me?"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Murphy." the desk-man said, "There's nobody to pick you up."

Murphy froze for a moment: "What do you mean, there's nobody?"

"We've checked. We didn't find anybody."

"That's impossible!" Murphy shouted, "There must be some mistake!"

"Sir, please calm down."

"Don't fucking tell me to calm down!" Murphy punched the desk as he spoke, with such a force it surprised the desk-man that he didn't break the desk.

"Sir?" one of the guards came up to Murphy, "Afraid we have to..."

"Stay out of this!" Murphy snapped at him.

One of the other guards reached for him, but Murphy smacked that hand away: "Don't touch me!"

Soon enough, his little outrage escalated to a brawl between him and all the available guards. Murphy fought back as much as he could, until one of them used a tazer on him. As he was tazered, he was reminded of that dream he had. When those bank-robbers shot him, nearly killed him if it wasn't for... that light? The light was immediately followed by the darkness of him passing out.


	5. Chapter 5

For two hours, Murphy had been waiting in the interrogation room. He was more than a little relieved when somebody entered. Even more so when it turned out it was a familiar face.

"You?" he said, "You were there at the lake."

The woman smiled: "That's right. You were the only reasonable person there. I was surprised when you lost it back there."

Murphy sighed: "You have to understand, er...?"

He squinted, which the woman took as her cue: "Skouris. Diana Skouris."

Murphy nodded: "You have to understand, Diana Skouris, I thought it would be just a few hours at most before I'd be let go. But you kept us for six weeks. And then there's the fact that as far as you're concerned I've been gone for sixteen years. So for sixteen years, my family..."

"I do understand how you must feel." Skouris replied.

"How could you?" Murphy questioned.

"Alex." Skouris kept him from saying anything more, "The reason we didn't let your family know about you is because... well, we couldn't."

Given the look on her face, and the long pauses, it was obvious that Skouris didn't know how to tell him... whatever it was she wanted to tell him.

"Skouris?"

"Your family's dead." she blurted out.

Murphy's eyes widened in disbelief: "That... that's not true."

"Afraid it is." Skouris assured him, "Your boy got in a fight at school, he was beaten in a coma. He struggled for several days, until he gave in."

Murphy was fighting back tears: "And... and Nancy?"

"She took her own life." Skouris answered.

"No... she wouldn't do that!" Murphy didn't believe her.

"Alex, her husband disappeared, and her boy just died." Skouris reasoned with him, "What would you have done?"

This still didn't make any sense. Had he died and she killed herself, that would have made more sense. But he just disappeared. How could she not believe he was still alive?

"We had thought of contacting Lewis, but she was unavail..."

"Lewis?" Murphy interrupted her.

"Don't you remember?" Skouris replied, "She was your partner."

"I do remember her." Murphy replied, "But... one of the thugs said he killed her."

"Well, he didn't do a pretty good job at it." Skouris said, "She's still alive."

Murphy thought back about what said thug actually said had happened. He said he took care of her, he didn't actually say he killed her. Who knows what he meant by that, if not killing her.

"What happened to her?"

"The clinic wouldn't give us any details, but..."

"Clinic?" this surprised Murphy even more.

"It looks like she had gone made sixteen years ago." Skouris continued.

A light-bulb lit up in Murphy's head: "At the same time as my disappearance?"

"Roughly, yes." Skouris answered.

Murphy got up to leave: "I'd gotta get out."

"Murphy!" Skouris cried at him, which stopped him dead, "You can't leave just yet."

"Why this time?" Murphy wondered.

"You've already lost it once." Skouris explained, "My bosses think you might lose it again. If you do, well there's only so much we can do."

Murphy shrugged. It may be sixteen years into the future, but some things never change. He knew exactly what to tell Skouris.

"Didn't you people advice us to seek counseling?" he asked, "The moment I arrive in Detroit, I'll get right on it."

Skouris visibly relaxed, but she wasn't done: "Before you do, I strongly advice you to look at that envelope we gave you."

Since he had to be subdued, he didn't have the envelope with him, so he couldn't look.

"Why? I already know what's in there."

"Really? So you know about the money, plane tickets, and the map?"

The plane tickets were new to him, but didn't surprise him since he didn't have anyone to pick him up anymore. But what was the map for?

"I already know Detroit." he said, "How much has changed?"

"More than you think." Skouris answered.


	6. Chapter 6

When Murphy left the building, he took a taxi cab, which dropped him off at the airport, where he took the plane to Michigan. While on the plane, he took one look at the map he was given. One look was enough to have Murphy swear out loud.

"Something wrong?" a woman from across the isle, who was in her early twenties asked him.

"They gave me the wrong map." Murphy complained, "It was supposed to be of Detroit, but instead they gave me one for something called Delta City."

The woman looked concerned: "Have you been living under a rock?"

He would have answered her with some excuse he made up at the spot, but the look on his face told him there was more to this than he thought: "Why?"

"Detroit doesn't exist anymore." the woman explained, "It's called Delta City now."

Murphy didn't know how he should feel about this. Sure, he'd been gone for sixteen years, and Skouris warned him that more had changed than he thought, but this wasn't the sort of change he expected. He would feel shock, but he realized that if he gets shocked by everything he doesn't know, he wouldn't be going anywhere at all.

"What happened?"

The woman hesitated to answer: "Do I know you?"

Murphy understood very well how naturally terrified people are of him and all the 4399 others, so even if he wasn't told to avoid mentioning it to anyone, he wasn't planning to anyway. But he also knew that his arrival was caught on tape and broadcast across the country (if not the world). So it was possible somebody filmed him, broadcast him, and therefor this woman could recognize him. He had to do something to stop her from trying to remember.

"Murphy." he stuck out his hand, "Alex Murphy."

The woman shook her head: "No. Doesn't ring a bell."

She took Murphy's hand and shook it: "I'm Lisa Madigan."

"Are you from Detro... I mean, Delta City?"

"Yeah." she didn't sound very happy about it.

"What's wrong?"

"I can't talk about it." she replied.

Murphy noticed some distress in her tone. He would have asked for more, but experience told him it would only make things worse. So he just nodded.

Upon the landing of their plane, they got off and went through all the necessary procedures. Having done so, they ran across a man who was getting agitated at the ticket booth.

"What do you mean I can't buy a ticket?"

"It says here you're not allowed to leave the state." the woman at the booth told him.

"You can't be serious! You can't just stop me from seeing my mother! What the fuck is wrong with you people?"

Seeing this, and remembering what happened to him just hours ago, Murphy started toward the man. But Madigan held his arm, stopping him.

"Don't."

"Why not?" Murphy asked her.

"If you get involved, with this, it'll mean bad news."

Murphy heard a click. In reflex he turned to look. As he heard people yell on top of their lungs, he saw the agitated man pointing a gun at the desk-woman.

"Give me my fucking ticket!"

Security officers came to the rescue, but the gunman had grabbed the desk-woman's shirt-collar, and her closer to him, so he could hold his gun to her temples.

"One step closer, and I blow her fucking brains out!"

In response, the security agents held up their hands, trying to calm him down.

His duty told him to go on and put a stop to this, but Madigan kept holding him at a distance.

"What are you doing?"

"Trust me on this, you better not do anything." she whispered.

"You!" the gunman had suddenly turned his attention to Murphy, "You got a problem?"

Whether Madigan liked it or not, the gunman had just involved him now: "Buddy, I'm looking at the problem."

Before the man could say anything in reply, a siren was heard. The gunman wouldn't let that stop him. He pulled the desk-woman over the desk and made his way to the entrance. Murphy followed suit, but stopped as soon as he saw the police-car stop, and its driver stepping out. What he saw was unbelievable. It looked like a man, but the man in question was wearing a heavily armored suit. The gunman shouted more threats at the man, but the robot-man didn't seem fazed by anything he said. Something opened in the robot-man's right leg, from which he took out a large gun and fired one shot. That shot blasted through the glass doors, the shattering of which almost muffled the gunshot, as well as the sound of the man hitting floor when the bullet hit him between his eyes.

"Look, Mom, it's Robocop!" Murphy heard a child say.

Robocop? Is this what Madigan was afraid of? That if he got involved, he'd be shot by this Robocop?

As he was thinking this over, the desk-woman ran to him, hysterically, holding her arms out, likely to thank him. But Robocop stuck out his hand, gesturing her to halt.

"I merely did my job." he said, with an obviously synthesized voice.

With this, Robocop got back in his car and drove away.

The desk-woman was still hysterical, and even sunk down upon receiving such a cold shoulder. But that wasn't what worried Murphy. Though Robocop's voice was obviously synthetic, there was something familiar about it.

"Murphy, you got a place to stay?" Madigan asked.

This was what he needed to snap back to reality: "What? No... no, I was hoping I could find a hotel somewhere..."

"Don't bother, you can stay at my place." she offered.

"You'd let a complete stranger into your house?"

"A complete stranger that would stand up to a gun the way you did? Why wouldn't I?"

Murphy couldn't argue with that logic, so he took her offer.


	7. Chapter 7

After a relatively short drive, Murphy and Madigan arrived at her apartment. Murphy took one quick look at it. He had no real idea what to expect, but what he saw wasn't it. It was dull gray, there were no ornaments, and nothing about it stood out as high-tech to him. In fact, he noticed, there was nothing technological at all in the apartment.

"You can use my daughter's room." Madigan suggested, "It's down there on your right."

"You have a daughter?" Murphy asked, "I don't mean to sound..."

"Then don't." she interrupted, and headed to her living room.

"What are you so paranoid about?" Murphy asked.

"OCP." Madigan answered.

This, he didn't understand: "OCP?"

Madigan nodded: "You ever heard them talk about making our lives easier? How Delta City was supposed to be the safest city in the world?"

"Of course I have." Murphy answered.

"What they didn't tell you is that their idea of a safe city is one where they listen in on all your conversations."

This appalled Murphy: "Are you serious."

"Yes." Madigan continued, "My boss once voiced his opinion to me, next thing I know Robocop bursts into the office and arrests him. Treason they said, but nobody ever saw the evidence for it."

"Don't you think you're... overreacting a..."

"The Old Man, who ran OCP." Madigan interrupted, "He fell out of the window, several stories high. People thought it was an accident, but the coroner showed me he was shot before he fell. Nobody's heard from the coroner since."

"Why are you telling me all this?"

"Just thought you should know what you're returning to, before you decide to stay."

"You're not afraid that people would hear you?" Murphy wondered.

"Look around you." Madigan suggested, "Notice anything?"

Murphy did notice a few things when he entered, but he didn't want to seem rude to her, so he shook his head.

"I got no TV here." Madigan answered, "Nor a phone, or a radio, or a computer, or anything they can use to listen to me."

This made sense to Murphy. Technology was quite advanced in 1988 already. It wouldn't surprise him if they someone found a way to hide microphones into any and all electrical equipment.

"And what about your daughter?"

"She's at MIT." Madigan answered, "Away from all this. I'd have gone with her, but I could barely afford sending her."

That explained why she was still in Delta City, Murphy thought to himself.

"Of course she didn't like the idea of leaving without me." Madigan continued, "After all, she never knew her birth-parents. And her adoptive father... well, I told you what happened to my boss."

"And how is she dealing with it now?"

"I don't know." Madigan sounded sad as she said it, "I told her that for both of our safeties, she shouldn't try to contact me."

Murphy was at a loss for words at that moment. During the three weeks he was in quarantine, he couldn't contact his family. But before that, he had disappeared for over a decade, during which his family couldn't contact him, didn't even know if he was still alive. And suddenly he heard about Madigan's situation. It was similar to his, except she asked her (apparently adoptive) daughter not to contact her. He didn't want to know what was worse. Not being able to contact your loved ones, or deliberately choosing not to contact your loved ones.

"So... what brought you back here?" Madigan finally asked.

Murphy had to wake up from his own thoughts: "I eh... I need to see a friend of mine."

"Can I help?" Madigan offered.

"Not unless you know Anne Lewis."

"Anne Lewis is your friend?" this surprised Madigan.

"You know her?"

"Every cop knows the story." Madigan replied.

So Madigan was a cop? That explained her being paranoid. But she wasn't finished: "Claimed she saw a bright light one day. The same day her new partner vanished without a trace. She hasn't been the same since."

"Can you tell me where I can find her?"


	8. Chapter 8

Upon hearing from Madigan where he could find Lewis, Murphy left her apartment. Once outside, he hailed a taxi cab. He got inside it, and heard the driver ask him where to go. But as Murphy was about to answer, he noticed something next to the steering wheel. It was a small screen, that seemed to display a map. It looked like something police cars were equipped with back in his day, only smaller. But what bothered him the most about it is that it had the OCP insignia in the corner of the screen. What did that mean? That OCP distributed these machines now? If so, could that mean that they'll know where to find him? Before he was abducted, he would not have questioned it, but after hearing Madigan talk the way she did, he wasn't too sure about anything anymore.

"Never mind, I'll go on foot." Murphy said before he left the cab.

The driver started calling a few names to Murphy, but he paid no attention to them. He searched his pockets for a map, which the NTAC people had given him. But as he searched, he noticed something else. Atop some of the poles, there were what he at first thought to be black light-bulbs. But as he looked closer, he noticed something moving inside them. He quickly realized those weren't light-bulbs, but cameras. Under normal circumstances, he would think they're surveillance cameras, but what were they surveying? And for whose security? It may be that if he were around when these changes occurred, he'd understand them better, but all he had was what Madigan told him. On the one hand he wanted to think OCP was more trustworthy than she made it seem, but experience told him he could never be too sure about anything. He walked toward the end of the street, until he found one small alley, that didn't have any cameras. It's odd, he thought to himself. Some of the biggest crimes were usually committed in small alleys like this one, so you'd think there would be cameras there? Unless... he shrugged it off, thinking he's over-thinking the whole situation. He walked into the alley, took one good look at the map, and found the mental hospital he was looking for. He folded the map again, and set off to the hospital.

After a long walk, Murphy arrived at the hospital. There, he got to the desk.

"Hello. I'm here to see Anne Lewis."

"Are you a relative?" the woman at the desk asked.

"No, I used to work with her." he answered.

"Did you? When?"

Murphy could understand her skepticism, but what was he supposed to tell her? Even though the whole world was aware of the 4400, he was told to avoid mentioning that wherever possible.

"Just tell her Murphy is here to see her. She'll understand."

The woman at the desk was still skeptical, but she decided to humor him. She dialed a number on the desk's phone.

"Doctor Neumeier? I have a Murphy here to see Anne Lewis." she waited for a reply, "That's what he said his name is."

She looked at the horn, puzzled. Murphy could merely guess the doctor said or did something which she didn't understand. She brought the horn back to her ear.

"Are you sure? Ok." she hung up and turned to Murphy, "Lewis' doctor will see you in his office. It's on the second floor, number 87."

Murphy thanked her, and went to see the good doctor.

As soon as Murphy entered the doctor's office, the latter got out of his chair to shake Murphy's hand.

"Are you Alex Murphy?" he asked.

"How do you know?"

"I'm Doctor Neumeier." he answered, "I've been treating Anne for the past sixteen years. She told me how she chased a gang of bank robbers, on the day you disappeared."

Murphy understood then what he was talking about: "I... I wish I could tell you what happened."

"Lucky for you, you don't have to." Neumeier answered, "I've seen what you looked like when you disappeared years ago, and you haven't aged a day. Is it safe for me to assume you're one of the 4400?"

Murphy didn't know what to answer.

"Don't worry, everything you say here won't be mentioned anywhere else." Neumeier assured him, "Also, as a psychiatrist, I have no opinion about you until I got to know you better."

"What do you mean?"

"I've heard how the people talk about you on the news." he explained, "Their distrust for what they don't understand makes them prone to distrust you."

"But you don't?"

"Even if I did, my training doesn't allow me to draw any conclusions before speaking to you first."

Murphy nodded: "But I didn't come here to talk to you. I came here to see Lewis. I need to know what she knows about the day I disappeared."

"You don't know?" this surprised Neumeier.

"None of us do." Murphy explained.

"Are you sure you don't want to talk to me?" Neumeier asked, "I'd like to know more about..."

"Doctor Neumeier." Murphy interrupted, "I'm only here for Lewis."

The doctor didn't like it, but he accepted it none the less: "Very well. I will inform her of your being here. It might make her seeing you again easier."

"I understand." Murphy replied.


	9. Chapter 9

An orderly escorted Murphy to Lewis' room. On his way to her room, he passed by many other rooms. Each and every one of them had their own patient, each with their own problems. One stood there, wobbling from side to side, another acted like a wild animal, yet another was asleep but woke up as soon as Murphy walked by him. Eventually, he arrived at Lewis' room. He looked upon his old partner. It was hard for him to believe this could be the same woman he saw when he chased criminals. He knew she would be sixteen years older since last time he saw her, but as far as he was concerned, only six weeks had passed since he last saw her. So to him, it was still weird to see her, with much longer hair, a wrinkled face, and staring into nothing, rather than being that determined woman he briefly knew. Hesitantly, Murphy approached her.

"Lewis?"

No reaction. He walked closer to her, until he was within eye-sight. Still no reaction. It was like there was nobody there.

"What's wrong with her?"

"You'll have to ask her doctor." the orderly answered, "One day she was watching the news, next thing we knew, she didn't say a word anymore. She just... became catatonic."

Murphy could only assume what that was about. Neumeier knew about the 4400, so it was possible that the news spread into this facility too. If his face was caught by one news camera, and Lewis was watching the news just then, she probably overreacted to what she saw. He could understand why Neumeier didn't mention her being catatonic (as he didn't want to Murphy to lose hope, and the doctor himself was probably hoping this would help her), but he couldn't understand why Lewis would be like this. What could possibly have happened the day he disappeared that would turn her into such a wreck? Whatever it was, Murphy realized he wouldn't get any wiser from her. So he got up and left the room.

"Sorry she wasn't much of a talker." the orderly told him as he locked the door behind him.

Murphy ignored him, and walked back the way he came.

"Hey, I know you."

Murphy heard someone talk. He turned to look inside the room he was passing by. It was the patient who was asleep earlier.

"I know you!" he repeated, "You're dead! We killed you!"

The orderly tried to shut the patient up, but it didn't matter. Murphy looked at the patient wide-eyed, as he realized who he was. He was one of the gangsters who shot him, just before he disappeared. What was worse, he seemed to think that he killed Murphy back then. It made him think back about those final moments.

He was cornered by the gang, their leader shot his hand off, and ordered his comrades to finish him off. Bullets pierced him, one of them even shot his arm clean off. That was when he saw the light, and next thing he knew, he was somewhere in the Seattle region. At the time, he thought he dreamed about being shot and losing his arm, since he found himself being in one piece still. But if this patient was convinced that he killed him, does that mean it wasn't a dream? Does that mean he should be dead by now?

"I'm sorry you had to witness this." the orderly said.

"Who is he?" Murphy asked him.

"I can't tell you that."

"He said he killed me."

"He says a lot of things." the orderly replied, "You really shouldn't mind him so much. At least not as long as he's safely locked."

Realizing he wouldn't get any wiser, he decided to go back on his way out.

When he made it into the lobby, he heard a certain tune. Though it sounded slightly different, he recognized it immediately. He turned to the direction it came from, and found a television set.

"This is Media Break." it said, "Give us ten minutes, and we give you the world."

"Good evening." the male anchor spoke, "Controversy keeps rising, as the 4400 seem to find their way into Delta City."

"That's right." the female anchor continued, "We have unconfirmed reports that one of the 4400 is on his way to our city."

A series of pictures started to flash on the screen.

"If the 4400 are, as they say, people who have gone missing years ago, then this visitor could be any one of these people."

It didn't make Murphy feel any better when his picture appeared, just when the woman said "any one".

"A happy return?" the male anchor said, with an acted tone of wonder, "Or a danger to the safest city on Earth. The Chairman of OCP had this to say."

They cut to an old man. Murphy didn't recognize him, but the caption at the bottom identified him as Richard Jones.

"Who are these 4400? Where do they come from? And why are they here?"

There was something weird about the way this Jones moved, about how he spoke. Murphy couldn't quite place what it was.

"As long as we don't know anything about them, we can't be too sure about anything. If anyone sees anyone they know who shouldn't be here, I urge you to alert the proper authorities."

"Chairman Jones, ladies and gentlemen." the male anchor said.

The female anchor picked up on that: "On a possibly brighter side, a man named Jordan Collier..."

But Murphy had stopped listening. He realized he had to get out before anyone recognized him.


	10. Chapter 10

Murphy headed toward the main entrance, but stopped midway. If he left through the obvious route, he would run the risk of being exposed. There had to be another way to leave the building. He looked around him, and found a cloth-hanger, where somebody hung up a coat with a large hood. He ran to the cloth-hanger and picked up the coat. But just when he put it on, he thought about what he was doing. He was stealing somebody else's coat. Some might argue that he was trying to hide, and that would somehow excuse him from this crime, but he only wanted to steal because he became paranoid. And even if his paranoia was founded, stealing other people's property wouldn't help in his favor. He decided to hang the coat again.

"Hey! Whatcha doin' with my coat?"

Somebody spotted him. It was already too late. He dropped the coat and ran out the building.

"Hey! Come back here!"

Outside, he had no immediate direction to run to. Especially not since people started staring at him, seeing as he left the building in a hurry. On his right, there were less people, so he thought he could run in that direction without being seen by too many others. No such luck, as a cop car drove in, blocking his way. Normally, he would have identified himself as a cop to them, but he didn't have a badge anymore. But even if he did, he didn't think of identifying himself, as he was too distracted at the sight of the car's driver. Though he had seen that driver before, there was simply no getting used to his existence. The door opened, a mechanic whiz sounded as his foot left the car, and stomped on the ground, followed by the other foot, and the rest of this cybernetic metal man.

"Alexander J. Murphy?" Robocop asked.

He knew his name. In his experience, a cop knowing your name is bad news. Even if he was just wanted for questioning, they wouldn't send their top man to take him in. Unless they already thought he was dangerous. There had to be a way out of this, Murphy thought to himself. This man may be a machine, but his bulkiness told Murphy that he wasn't very maneuverable. He ran onto the hood of the car, jumped off at the other side, and ran away. He could hear Robocop making several moves, but his mechanical body moved too slow. Murphy had already disappeared around the corner before Robocop could fire his gun.

As he ran, Murphy wondered how Robocop knew where he was. If anyone at the hospital recognized his face, they wouldn't have had the time to call the police, nor would any cop have arrived at the hospital this fast. The only person who knew where he was headed kept her room free from any surveillance equipment. He avoided big streets, so nobody would have caught him on camera. As Murphy found his way behind the building, he ran into... he had no idea what he ran into. It looked like one pod of sorts, standing on two large legs, with machine-guns for hands.

"Surrender now, or I'll be authorized to open fire." it said, threateningly.

Still confused of what he was looking at, Murphy asked: "What are you?"

"ED-209, assigned to guard this facility, keeping inmates from escaping."

Murphy saw his chance here: "But I'm not an inmate, so you don't have to point your guns at me."

"I received orders to stop you." ED-209 replied.

"But you just said you're not supposed to do that."

"I am... keep inmates in... ED-20... authir..."

Murphy hoped he could reason with ED-209, but he didn't think that obeying orders or doing what he's built for would cause such a confusion with him. In either case, he could continue running.


End file.
